


you are all to blame

by orphan_account



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Based on a My Chemical Romance Song, Definitely Very Very Happy, Dermatillomania, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Overdose, Please Don't Hate Me, Please Don't Kill Me, Please Kill Me, Sad Josh, Suicide, Trichtillomania, actually, ha, headfirst for halos, joshler - Freeform, wait
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-11-02 15:18:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10947207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Wherein Josh is slowly destroying himself, and Tyler can do nothing but watch.





	you are all to blame

Josh's hand twitches. His scalp itches. The scabs on his wrists throb. The urges are strong, they burn through his veins. An unstoppable force; he can try to run, but they'll always be there, chasing after him until he can run no more. 

He runs a hand through his hair. A few strands of blue hair come away, tangled in his fingers. (He dyed it blue the other day. The colour looks pretty against his pale, pale skin.) Josh winds them into a ball, rolling it around in his fingers. The feeling is comfortable, reassuring almost. It's a safety blanket.

His own personal safety blanket.

Somebody laughs. He vaguely hears a voice say, "Oh look, it's ittle-wittle baby Joshy!"  
He snaps.   
"How much plastic surgery did you have to get to cover up the mistakes you've made? 'Cause I can still see them pretty clearly." Josh says, laughing at the astonished look on the person's face (he thinks it's Alex).  
Alex glares, but he walks away. Josh allows himself a small grin. It's a victory.

A victory in a war he's losing, but a victory all the same.

-

Tyler sees the boy with the blue hair yell at Alex, and he can't say Alex doesn't deserve it. He's an asshole. 

-

Josh peels the scabs off his wrists. Blood pours from them in pretty red streams, colouring his pale skin. Pain rolls out from them in waves.

Two of the blue ones are tipped down his throat. To numb the pain. Two of the red ones stop the nervous thoughts burning into his mind. But he still feels like blowing his brains against the ceiling.

-

Tyler sees the boy with the red hair (wasn't it blue the other day?) tip some pills down his throat. He feels like he has to do something to help, but he can't. Tyler's frozen watching as the boy, his name's Josh, as Josh destroys himself.

-

Josh looks at the gun in his hand. There's two bottles of pills in front of him, both orange. The red ones will make him fly. The blue ones will drag him down. Both will leave him a corpse in his bed. Maybe he'll die in school.

Maybe that'd show them what they've done.

But there's one thing stopping him from taking them all at once. And that one thing is Tyler. Tyler, with his delicate hands and flower crowns and perfect, perfect nature. 

Does Josh really want to destroy that?

-

Tyler sees Josh's nervous glances, the tapping of his fingers on the side of his chair, the tangling of his fingers in his hair when they're not tapping his chair, and when neither of those is happening he's peeling the scabs off his wrists in routine sequence.

Something is wrong. Josh doesn't want to admit it. But Tyler can see that something's wrong, and Tyler wishes he could do something to change it.

-

Josh tips back the blue ones, and then the red ones, swallows them all at once. His brain turns to mush. His thoughts fold in on themselves. He feels like he can do anything, be anyone he wants. All the pills in his system make him feel floaty and free, makes him feel like he can do anything, do something he's never felt before. So he pulls the gun out of his backpack, makes sure there's a full cartridge of bullets in it.

He puts the gun to his chin, points it towards the ceiling, and pulls the trigger. The last thing he sees is the blood turning his vision into a canvas of red and the fragments of his skull as they fall from the ceiling in a shower of bone fragments falling around him in a corona of pixie dust.

**Author's Note:**

> yes yes i definitely write very happy  
> i hope my parents don't find this


End file.
